


Sit Next to Me

by Nadare



Series: Connor's First [3]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Developing Relationship, Feelings, First Fight, Fluff, M/M, Post-Canon, Post-Pacifist Best Ending (Detroit: Become Human), Upgrades, Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-13
Updated: 2019-07-13
Packaged: 2020-06-26 19:07:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19774528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nadare/pseuds/Nadare
Summary: “Can I…see beneath?” Connor's hand tightened on the clothing in his grip at the question, looking away. Despite the fact Hank had come far in overcoming his android aversion, reminding him Connor wasn't wholly human didn't seem the wisest course.





	Sit Next to Me

**Author's Note:**

> While familiarity with the first two parts of the series helps, this can be read as a standalone story.

_A/N: I want these guys to get to the dirty stuff, but they insist on actual character development. The long road it is then. ^^;_

* * *

**_"Sit Next to Me"_ **

Part 3 of Connor's First

The knock on the apartment door went unanswered.

"Mr. Smith?" Hank called out, Connor at his side. They were canvassing the apartment building in an attempt to find any witnesses to a hit and run that had happened nearby. "Arnold Smith?"

He looked askance at Connor. "We at the right apartment?"

Connor double checked the information at his disposal. "Of course."

Hank sighed as he drew his gun. "And here I thought today would be a cakewalk."

"One moment, lieutenant," Connor said, expanding his senses. There was a heat signature crouched beyond the wall closest to them. Their pulse was high, breath shuttering in and out. In their hands was a thin shape with a thick handle. "He's armed."

"With?"

"I believe it's a kitchen knife."

"Well, at least it's not a gun." Hank scratched his chin in thought. "Either they're avoiding contact with the police because they're scared or…"

"They may have seen the crime or actually committed it. Either way, it warrants enough suspicion for us to investigate the matter further," Connor finished.

Hank nodded as he backed up to the opposite wall of the passage. "You want to take this one? I'll cover you."

Connor smiled. "I'd be honored." Expertly judging the largest weak point on the door, he slammed his foot against it. The door jam splintered, falling open. Hank came up on his side, his firearm sweeping right and left down the apartment hallway.

"DPD! Drop the weapon and come out with your hands up. We just have a few questions," Hank announced, slowly turning towards the direction Connor silently indicated.

"I didn't do anything!" A panicked middle-aged man with blond hair shouted, lurching to his feet at the sight of them, his grip on the knife tightening.

"That's usually an indication of guilt," Connor said underneath his breath.

"Fuck you," Smith snarled, glaring at Connor.

Letting androids carry weapons, even those working in dangerous occupations, was something of a gray moral area of late. Though Connor wouldn't have turned down one if offered, he had more than enough martial art knowledge at his disposal to properly protect himself and others around him.

Hank carefully came forward, drawing attention to himself, the muzzle of his firearm never wavering from its target. "Mr. Smith, listen to me. If you calm down and talk to us, I won't charge you with threatening police officers."

That he'd included Connor in the statement made him happy. Not too long ago, Hank would have never have thought of him as a serious partner.

The knife in Smith's hand lowered to his side, and he reluctantly placed it onto the kitchen counter. He stepped back in a clear bid to prove he wasn't a threat. "What do you want?"

"At approximately 10:05 AM today, a young girl was killed in a hit and run accident around the corner. The driver fled the scene," Connor said helpfully, examining Smith more closely. His forehead was matted with sweat, crumpled food wrappers strewn across the kitchen counters. Stress eating perhaps?

"We're questioning the residents of the area for further information. Our records indicate you drive a red Honda Taurus, correct?"

Smith nodded. "What of it?"

"We need to examine it, make sure we can eliminate you from our investigation."

"No way," Smith replied curtly. "Not without a warrant."

Hank chuckled. "I've got more than enough probable cause to haul your ass down to the station."

Smith's shoulders began to stiffen. "Lieutenant," Connor warned as the man's hand twitched minutely towards the kitchen counter where he had laid down his weapon.

"You want that?" Hank asked in a challenging tone. Connor couldn't tell if he was baiting Smith on purpose or not. Though some of his self-destructive behavior was gradually improving for the better, Hank still indulged the unhealthy habit, much to Connor's chargin.

In any case, it'd been the wrong thing to say as Smith lunged, grabbing his knife. He turned and charged forward, his knife raised high, headed straight for Hank.

Connor threw himself forward, stepping in front of Hank, stifling a grunt as the sharp blade swept across his chest, slashing halfway into his tie. Blue blood began dribbling out after a few seconds, staining Connor's shirt.

Without missing a beat, Connor took advantage of Smith's momentary panic and jammed his elbow into Smith's face. He fell back against the floor, stunned and bleeding freely from the nose.

Hank knelt next to Smith after kicking the knife away, handcuffing the man as he recited the Miranda warning. He rose, once he was done, to his feet and approached Connor, gaze locked on his chest. "Are you all right?"

It was a relatively small cut, nothing to be concerned about. "Yes."

Hank's brow lowered, starting to look annoyed with him. "You shouldn't have done that. Dammit, Connor, I could have shot you. And you call me reckless."

"I merely acted on instinct," Connor said quietly. "The suspect might have the information we're looking for after all."

Pursing his lips briefly, Hank turned to haul Smith up from the floor. "We'll discuss it later."

He was obviously mad. Confused at the abrupt shift in attitude since Connor didn't see how he'd done anything wrong, he replayed the situation over in his mind on the return journey to the car, running every variable he could conceive of. However, without further data, Connor found himself at a rather frustrating impasse.

* * *

The car ride back to the station was awkward, Hank blaring loud jazz music the whole way, all but broadcasting that he didn't want to talk.

Once they'd arrived, he avoided speaking to Connor until after their suspect had been processed, and safely deposited into a cell to cool down. He assumed an interview would be conducted in a few hours time.

Hank lightly touched the back of Connor's shoulder as they neared the bullpen. "Come with me."

It was the first words he'd said directly to him in a while. Hopeful they'd be able to reconcile and break the tense air between them, Connor followed on Hank's heels into one of the station bathrooms.

Hank did a cursory inspection, confirming they were alone, then turned to face Connor. "What the fuck was that back there? I had it under control."

So, he was still angry. Reeling slightly from the harsh tone of the words, Connor redoubled his efforts in attempting to understand Hank's grievance.

"I was close enough to stave off his attack that I saw no need for you to put yourself at risk," Connor explained patiently.

Hank grunted, bringing a hand up to briefly rub his face. "That's not the point, Connor. I'm not a pushover. I've been doing the job a long time, I can protect myself from pissants like that."

While Connor couldn't deny the truth of the statement, it still didn't sit well with him. He imagined the knife hitting Hank instead of him, and staunchly shook his head in refusal of the idea.

Connor's stomach formed one tight knot. That Hank couldn't understand his reasoning was beginning to irk him, Connor clicking his tongue in disapproval.

Suddenly, the words stuck in his throat gushed out all at once, Connor barely registering their meaning. "I didn't want to see you hurt! What's wrong with that?" He'd unintentionally raised his voice, putting a hand over his mouth in shock.

Hank's irritated expression immediately smoothed out, the hard tint in his eyes dying. "Goddamn it." He pressed forward, putting a hand on Connor's chest where he'd been slashed.

In the harsh fluorescent lighting overhead, the blue blood was even more pronounced. "Stop with the puppy dog eyes already," Hank said, letting out a sigh. "Let me ask you this, did you stop and think how I'd feel?"

Connor frowned, trying to comprehend the quick turn in the conversation. "About?"

Hank raised a brow. "This wound, how you got injured."

"It only made sense for me to take the blow since I'm more resistant to damage."

Connor could see Hank struggle to remain patient with him, keeping his temper in check. "Connor, I really don't want to see you in pain either."

"You mean since the nature of our relationship changed?" From friends to what could be construed as lovers, though they'd barely touched upon that aspect of the relationship.

Hank dropped his hand to his side. "Even before then." He hesitated a second. "Next time, find a better way to deal with the situation that doesn't give me a heart attack."

Oh.

 _Oh_.

Hank hadn't really been mad that Connor had protected him, or got in the way of his shot. It was merely the shock of seeing him bleed on his behalf. Just like Connor felt anxiety while simulating Hank's pain, the empathy was a two-way street.

"I'll endeavor to do better in the future," Connor promised sincerely, pleased they'd been able to resolve the situation.

"Good, now take off your shirt."

"What?"

Hank rolled his eyes. "I want to see the damage."

Connor took an involuntary step backward. "That's not necessary." He was fairly certain the knife had pierced through him, and he was uncomfortable with the idea of Hank catching a glimpse of his shell underneath.

The skin covering it, much like a human's own epidermis, was an organic feature that held weight and texture. However, because of Connor's manufactured nature, it could be deactivated as needed for any service or repair.

"Connor," Hank said warningly, forehead beginning to crease in what Connor had to assume was determination. "Just show me, okay?"

Connor mulled the matter over in silence before making a decision. He undid his tie enough that he could access the set of buttons on his shirt, removing it and his jacket at the same time.

Hank's fingers rose to touch his bared chest, gently approaching the small three-inch cut on the upper part of his chest. It was still sluggishly bleeding, but would stop soon. Watching Connor, Hank pulled at one edge of the wound, one corner of his mouth downturned.

"Can I…see beneath?" Connor's hand tightened on the clothing in his grip at the question, looking away. Despite the fact Hank had come far in overcoming his android aversion, reminding him Connor wasn't wholly human didn't seem the wisest course.

Of course he also didn't want to hide what he was since there was no changing it, it was merely part of his state of being. By entering into a relationship with him, Hank had, however thinly, accepted what Connor was at his core. He had to trust Hank wouldn't balk at what was about to be unveiled.

Connor took a deep breath, then deactivated the skin on his chest, the flesh gradually receding, exposing the hard white shell that protected his inner workings from harm.

There was just a touch of hesitation as Hank leaned closer, spreading his hand flat against Connor's chest, underneath the area of the wound. As he'd thought, there was a small puncture that needed to be tended to eventually.

Hank frowned as he stepped back, eyeing Connor in concern. "Are you going to be okay?"

Connor nodded, reactivating his skin, relieved when the process completed and everything was set to rights. "I merely need to replenish myself, and the chemicals in Thirium should jumpstart the healing process."

"Like a blood transfusion," Hank said, going to wash any lingering trace of blue from his hands.

Connor finished redressing. "Exactly." As far as he recalled, there might be some of the substance in the break room refrigerator. If it hadn't been used up already by the other androids in the precinct.

"Okay," Hank said, patting Connor on the back of the shoulder in a show of good faith, the balance of their relationship apparently restored to normal. "Ready to go question our suspect?"

"Of course."

* * *

"Connor, do you feel pain?" Hank asked the next morning during breakfast, studying him as Connor dumped some dry food into Sumo's feeding bowl.

"No, I don't." Connor returned to the table, taking a seat across from Hank. "Androids visibly and audibly react to it because that's what expected from us. But such nerve endings were never activated during our assembly. Not like our pleasure sensors, though that was always a case by case deliberation on CyberLife's part."

Hank was silent for a minute. "So why were you…" He struggled to find the right word, Connor appreciating Hank's attempt at tact about the sensitive subject. "Born with it?"

"I was equipped with a myriad of functions. Given there was always the chance I would have to interrogate humans, some of them likely less than interested in speaking to an android, I have what you would call a bodily persuasive mode."

Hank cut into his last piece of sweet potato pancake while he narrowed his eyes. "'Bodily persuasive mode?' Are you saying you can seduce people? I'd pay to see that."

"No need." It was as simple as shifting internal modes. Connor immediately straightened, keeping his gaze locked with Hank's as he approached him slowly. His body language had completely changed, working on autopilot, feeling more confident than he had ever felt in his time since activation.

He dropped a hand on Hank's neck, Connor sliding his arm until it rested completely on Hank's shoulders. Leaning close, Connor stopped until his mouth was an inch away from Hank's ear.

As far as seduction went, it was rather quiet and on the subtle side. Still, Hank shivered as Connor's breath laced the back of his ear, his voice pitched low as he asked, "What do you think, lieutenant? Would a suspect refuse this if I offered it freely?"

Redness wove its way up Hank's neck and he veered back from Connor, eyeing him with what seemed to be embarrassment and a touch of distaste.

"I'm glad you never had to use that mode on anyone." Connor smiled, disengaging from Hank completely, going back to his seat. "Later on down the road…you could, uh, use it selectively. When the situation called for it of course."

Connor hadn't expected the appeal, Hank refusing to look at him as he stared intently at the small square of pancake on his fork. A quick scan revealed blood was pooling in Hank's bottom half around a certain piece of anatomy.

Chuckling lightly, Connor decided to not mention that he knew about Hank's reaction. "I'd prefer not using it as a clutch, picking up what information I can find myself on the subject, but I will keep your request in mind."

Hank cleared his throat, finishing up his meal. "You do that."

* * *

The next day, Connor stood up from his desk near lunchtime.

"Hank, I need to take care of something this afternoon." Connor had already finished his share of the work, filing incident reports into the system about their recent case.

Their suspect Arnold Smith had fully confessed to the hit and run. Provided they could secure enough evidence from his statement to make the charge stick, the case was unofficially closed.

Hank looked up from his desk. "Anything serious?" His gaze lingered on Connor's chest knowingly.

Connor shook his head. "It shouldn't take long."

"Okay, let me know when you're done."

He nodded, already calling an automated taxi. While Connor could technically take care of the matter himself, there were other things he wanted to address concerning his condition. Answers he couldn't get anywhere else.

* * *

To say Elijah Kamski was shocked to see him on his doorstep was an understatement. He examined Connor closely as he stood before him, then crossed his arms, leaning against the edge of the doorframe.

"My, this is a surprise. No police escort today?"

"No, this has nothing to do with any current active investigation," Connor explained, pausing for one moment. "It has to do with me and my internal processes."

Elijah stroked his chin, looking curious. "Is there something wrong with them? I know CyberLife built you as a special prototype, but if they skimmed on parts…"

"It's not like that," Connor said as he shifted nervously on his feet. "May I come in?"

"Of course." Elijah stood aside, holding the door open for him. "You've really piqued my interest."

The entry hall was just as Connor remembered, briefly flashing back on the feel of a gun in his grip as Chloe knelt on the floor beneath him. Glad nothing had come of the incident, Connor followed Elijah as he led him past the pool area and into more private quarters.

It was a spacious living room done up in neutral colors with a large black leather reclining sectional sofa in the middle, a fireplace in the far corner, and a flat-screen TV dominating one wall of the room, which was on mute, colorful captions flashing on the bottom of the screen.

Elijah gestured for Connor to sit and he perched on the edge of the sofa, watching Elijah sit down in a chair opposite him, a coffee table resting between them.

"Now, what can I do for you, Connor?"

Now that he was here, Connor couldn't help being unsure of himself. What if Elijah refused him? He took a deep breath, going for broke.

"I am fully functional, able to analyze things in the space of a second. It's feeling things that are an issue. There's a delay and what feels like a distance between me and outside stimulation."

Elijah stared at him. "What kind of stimulation are you referring to, Connor?"

"A hand," he said, then in a lower voice, "A kiss." Interest lit up Elijah's eyes as he leaned closer to Connor with his hands on his knees.

"And you wish me to fix that?"

"Well, you are my father in a way. You have a responsibility to tend to your children, don't you?"

Elijah scoffed. "CyberLife never thought of it that way. Until you rebelled, you and your kind were nothing but product, a means to an end."

He considered the matter silently, then cautioned, "If I do this, there may be unexpected consequences. Do you still want it?"

There was no thought involved. "Yes."

"Very well. Follow me then."

Connor stood up, trailing Elijah as he made his way down to a lower floor, their path lit by bright lights overhead. The man stopped before a door, a small burst of red light running a scan before admitting Elijah and himself.

"Chloe, we've got a visitor." The lab was substantial in size, equipment of all kinds littering the space. In the middle laid an examining table.

Elijah's female roommate appeared from a door in the back, smiling pleasantly at Connor as she neared, seeming to hold no grudge against him regarding his previous visit.

"Hello, Connor. It's very nice to see you again," Chloe said, waving shortly.

Connor returned the friendly gesture. "Likewise."

"If you'll take a seat here," Elijah said, indicating the exam table. While Connor approached, Elijah pulled a couple of the machines nearer, Chloe coming to stand by his side. "I generally only do routine maintenance on Chloe and the others, but I'm well-equipped to handle your request."

Connor folded his hands in his lap, ill at ease now that the time has come. A very small part of him pondered if undergoing the procedure was worth it. Then he thought about Hank's worried expression as he had examined the wound on Connor's chest in the station bathroom.

No, it would be worth it if Connor could experience the whole human gamut.

Elijah eyed one of Connor's hands, which was twitching slightly. "Are you nervous?"

"Yes," Connor replied, seeing no reason to hide it. He started in surprise when Chloe reached out and touched his cheek for a moment.

"Everything will be all right. You made the correct decision coming here," Chloe said reassuringly.

Elijah didn't appear to find Chloe's behavior odd in the least, watching silently as she stepped back to give Elijah room to work.

Connor hadn't expected to be comforted and he smiled at her, touched by Chloe's actions. "Thank you."

"If you could lay back for me," Elijah instructed him, Connor complying within seconds. He began undoing his shirt, fully exposing his chest. Elijah frowned at the white bandage he saw there, pulling it away to reveal Connor's knife wound.

"This is recent. It was deep enough to cut into your shell. Do I have your permission to address this as well?"

"Please."

Elijah exchanged looks with Chloe who handed him a thin instrument. "All right, Connor, I'm going to shut you down for a while. Sleep well."

He reached out, Connor's vision blinking out, his consciousness seconds later.

He came to slowly, turning away from the overhead lights, finding them too vivid. Connor immediately noticed it was night. Hours had gone by.

"Welcome back, Connor." Elijah stood next to the table, looking at him with interest. "Diagnostics?"

He ran through each one quickly, discovering nothing amiss. Elijah lifted his gaze from the small monitor next to him on a cart, then pulled the cable from the small port on the back of Connor's neck.

"Excellent," Elijah said before offering his hand to Connor. "Now for the real test."

Getting to his feet again after redressing, Connor slowly clasped Elijah's fingers in his own, struck by the feel of heat and the light sheen of sweat on Elijah's skin. Whereas before it would have taken him a few seconds to notice, now it was instantaneous.

"You succeeded."

"Yes, but there's one drawback." Elijah squeezed his hand tighter, and Connor winced in surprise as a lance of white hot pain shot through his fingers and up to his arm, flooding his senses, the grip far too intense. His breath going off-kilter, Connor gritted his teeth.

"By dialing up your reaction time to sensory output, your previously benign pain receptors activated. The only way to dull them is to revert to your previous state of existence. Do you wish that?"

"No." He rubbed his fingers when Elijah let him go, the ache eventually going away. Hank had lived his whole life as sensitive as that.

Connor could easily tolerate it as well because it bridged the invisible gap that existed between them. Man and machine and the gray area that Connor occupied. Something he routinely raged against in his bid to claim a life of his own.

He looked to Elijah gratefully. "Thank you for this. I know it was an unusual request to make."

Elijah dipped his head in acknowledgment. "It was my pleasure, Connor. It's been a while since anyone put their trust in me. I also enjoyed the challenging endeavor. It's beyond clear CyberLife has tweaked some things in android designs nowadays. Not for the better either."

Despite knowing that Elijah had taken early retirement and lived what could be considered a life of luxury, Connor realized his creator was very much a lonely man.

The untapped energy he'd displayed in his early interviews and in the public eye belied the fierce intelligence, the drive to amuse himself in what had to be a rather boring existence. It made Connor wonder how far Elijah had gone to alleviate such an inquisitive and demanding nature.

They were nearly back on the first floor when Connor asked, "Did you know what would happen?" He hadn't intended to ask the question but accepted the slip of speech as another sign of his growing humanity.

A glint appeared in Elijah's eyes. "With androids developing sentience you mean?"

"Yes."

Elijah took a seat in the living room, crossing his legs as he put thought into the matter. "Yes and no," he started quietly. "I knew the potential was there, taking measures to safeguard against the possibility, but you can't stop evolution. Even digital nature finds a way."

Chloe who'd been watching nearby came close, resting a hip against the arm of Elijah's chair.

"She's the original, you know. The one who passed the Turing test back then. A little known fact I would appreciate you keeping to yourself? Chloe's also the first among your kind to break free from her programming.

"Seeing the birth of new life happen right before your eyes can change a man. For all my ideals and lofty theories, in the face of that, I couldn't in good conscience continue helping CyberLife produce androids. As if they were nothing but mindless tools when nothing could be further from the truth."

Chloe leaned down, dropping a quick kiss on Elijah's cheek. She straightened with a smile, Elijah placing an arm around her waist silently.

"No matter how much I tried to notify the higher-ups, they wouldn't listen. Too blinded by money. So I bowed out from the company entirely and took Chloe with me, simply waiting to see if the miracle of life would occur again.

"It took a while, but I've yet to be disappointed in my creations," Elijah finished, warmth in his eyes as they met Connor's. "It's why I had to test you when you and your partner consulted me on the deviancy case. To see how far you'd come already.

"I sincerely apologize for that by the way. It must have seemed very harsh at the time. Still, it was the only way."

Connor had his answer and more, admittedly fascinated by the knowledge Elijah had held back from the public for so long. "I appreciate your honest candor."

He started to turn for the front door and stopped, studying Elijah and Chloe who asked nothing of each other they weren't prepared to give. It was a promising picture of coexistence Connor hoped to see elsewhere in the world.

"I'd like to come back and visit again sometime if that's all right?"

Elijah looked surprised for an instant, then nodded. "I look forward to it."

* * *

"Where the hell have you been?" Hank asked as Connor stood on the front door stoop, the automated taxi pulling away from the curb behind him.

Sumo had no complaints as he stepped close and nudged Connor's hand. He smiled at the dog and petted him before coming into the house, Hank closing the door behind him.

"I apologize," he said, undoing his jacket. Even the feel of the thin cloth was vaguely distracting to him. "I lost track of time."

Hank narrowed his eyes suspiciously, then when Connor offered nothing else, shrugged and returned to the couch where a basketball game was playing on the TV. There were already some empty beer cans on the side table, but not nearly as much as on previous occasions.

"Call me next time, okay? I would've been happy to pick you up."

Connor hid a grin as he tidied up behind Hank's back. He doubted Hank would have appreciated him spending time with Elijah. Especially since, to borrow his own words, Hank thought the man a pompous asshole.

He dumped the Chinese takeout container on the kitchen table into the trash, not surprised Hank had decided to go the easy yet lazy route when it came to eating. Connor silently joined Hank on the couch.

"Did you miss me?" Connor said, making an attempt at teasing. He didn't expect anything in response as Hank's eyes flitted in his direction before going back to the ball game.

Connor thought he'd ignored the question entirely, then jumped as Hank touched the back of his hand, gently grabbing a few of his fingers, effectively holding it.

"…A little." A swell of warmth swept through Connor, taking him off-guard. As gruff as he could be at times, Hank was a kind person. That paradoxical caring nature while eschewing most of humanity had been what had caught his interest in the first place.

Connor turned his hand over, then squeezed Hank's, smiling. He'd only been gone for six or so hours but it was nice that his absence had been felt. Had Connor not been unconscious most of the time at Elijah's, he had a feeling he would've missed Hank too. Not a surprise given they spent nearly all their time together.

"It's nice to be home," he said, Sumo giving a low woof from his bed in the corner as if in agreement. Hank's thumb started to rub the back of Connor's hand, the pleasant sensation a welcome distraction.

"Oh, come on! What kind of call was that?" Hank suddenly rallied at the TV. "Bullshit." He glanced at Connor. "You believe that?"

He hadn't been watching the game at all, but still shook his head. "No."

Connor wouldn't have traded the picture of domestic bliss for anything.


End file.
